This One Time at Band Camp
by Indigo Eyes
Summary: Well, if he absolutely must, Zexion would play drums. After all, how hard could that be. Not very... unless you factor in his section leader from Hell. Zemyx, Akuroku, & various others
1. Prologue

**This One Time at Band Camp**

**_Prologue_**

_12/24/07_

_**...-... **_

In life, there are certain unarguable facts. For instance:

A) The sky is blue. (Actually, the scientist in Zexion would argue that. Truly, the sky has not actual color to it. It is only the blue wave lengths that have been absorbed into the atmosphere that make it seem as such.)

B) The grass is green. (Again, Zexion had to argue this. Living in Arizona, the only grass he had ever seen was, if not dead, yellow and soon-to-be dead.)

C) School administration is comprised completely of idiots. (Zexion agreed completely with this. In fact, the scientist in Zexion was willing to hypothesize that there was a direct correlation between fucktardedness- for lack of a better term- and an individual's need to apply for a position in the school administration of Midtown Area High School. He'd even provide graphs to support his findings.)

This is exactly why, three weeks before the start of his freshmen year, Zexion receives his schedule. All seems well- an advanced lit course, an advanced science course, a lunch in between- the usual. Except for the very last slot under 9th Period. _Marching Band._

Zexion blinks and checks the name on envelope- yes, it's his. He checks the name on the top of the schedule- also his. He frowns. He calls the school. A woman with a nasally voice answers, and tells him that all schedule changes were to be made four weeks before the beginning of the school year. She tells him it's not her fault (which, actually, it is) that he only just received his schedule now, and that as a student of the band, he is required to attend band camp next week. Then she breaks the connection before Zexion can so much as ask what the hell band camp was.

Just then a small slip of paper flutters out of the envelope.

_Attention All Band Students:_

_We will be meeting on the football field at 8:00 starting August 13th._

_Please bring your instrument and a bottle of water._

Zexion arches an eyebrow. Apparently he is required to join this whole "Band" thing and suffer through it. Not participating will lover his grade average, and he can't have that, because Notre Dame just won't accept 3.9 GPAs.

Oh, and an instrument.

Well, drums, of course. All that involves is hitting a pair of sticks off a flat surface, and honestly, how hard could **_that_** be?


	2. Week One

**This One Time at Band Camp**  
_**Chapter 1**_  
_01-20-08_

* * *

**Week One- Band Camp Beings (AKA: The Section Leader From Hell)**

Day One

It's going to be easy. Zexion will bang his drum (get your mind out of the gutter, thank you very much), stick to the back of the line, attract as little attention as possible, and slip through band camp unnoticed. Easy. Like a C major scale- no sharps, no flats, and life is good.

Enter the squad leader- the devil's corporal form- and your major scale turns to a melodic minor- whole step, half step, whole step, whole step, half step, whole step, whole step- with an augmented 7th and an augmented 5th, but only ascending, it's natural on the descent, and oh, can you add an arpeggio please, before going back to the coda?

She's a monster. A behemoth. A hellcat. An absolute tyrant. The czar of drum line. She is the section-leader from the fucking black lagoon, also known as Larxene. She's new here- a foreign exchange student. She shouldn't be section leader. That's what other band members are saying, at least. She's here for a few minutes and a buzz of rumors - she witnessed a murder and is here as part of the witness program, she killed her parents and lives on her own, she's part of the Russian mafia and here for an undercover assassination- reach Zexion's ears. None of these bother Zexion because, after all, they're only rumors. But one thing does annoy him…

As soon as she arrives, Zexion's plan to stick to the shade and put in the minimum amount of effort required to get an A is blown away.

"_Come on, pansy! Finish your laps, and then you can throw up!"_

There's a grumble of complaint.

"_Do you think I care that you're asthmatic? Get on that field and do your drills like the rest of the drum line!"_

Zexion slinks further into the shadows under the bleachers and wonders if he can hide here until break and then make a run for it.

A whistle blows loudly, piercing Zexion's ears- and apparently anyone else's who happens to be within a mile radius if the sudden cries of pain are any clue. Zexion hazards a glance to the field and wonders who the hell gave that bitch a whistle…

She's glaring at a boy who seems to be regreeting his breakfast by the field-goal. She turns around to stare petulantly at the rest of the squad, looking as though she's about to unleash Armageddon upon them. In the back of his mind, Zexion feels a twang of pity and guilt- not enough for him to join them, of course.

"_That's it. No break! Extra push-ups for everyone!"_ She shouts and blows her whistle again.

Or he can just hide here until practice ends. Yeah, that seems like a good idea.

Day Two:

Zexion shows up twenty minutes early in hopes that, perhaps if her gets here early enough, she won't show. And it seems as though his illogical pleas have worked. Musicians arrive, toting instruments and joking with each other. Two kids seem to be going at it, swinging trombones at each other. One of them has an eye-patch. _Jeez_, Zexion muses, _I wonder why. _Squad leaders from different sections arrive, but Larxene's a no-show.

Zexion lets out a sigh. Safe.

And then the rumble of rock and roll music screams, and a red convertible screeches into its parking spot.

Zexion slinks back into the shadows.

Day Three:

He hides.

Day Four:

She's taking role and screaming something about "_Who the hell is Zexion and why hasn't he come to a single practice?!"_ She mispronounces his name as Sexion. He can't find it in himself to correct her.

Day Five:

He wonders why the hell he bothers coming each day. He should just fail the dumb class and hope that college reps are merciful. Maybe he could introduce them to his bitch of a section leader and get a Badge of Honor or a Purple Heart…

Zexion freezes. It's quiet. There's no yelling, no screaming, no whistle blowing (which brings up the possibility that he's finally gone deaf from all the noise). Zexion peers around the side of the bleachers. She's walking straight towards him, staring at him.

_Shit._

Zexion ducks back behind a support beam.

Her footsteps, he hears her footsteps.

He tries to mold himself to the steel, ignoring all the thoughts in his mind about how many diseases he is going to contract.

Closer, closer.

He clenches his eyes shut. Not here, he's not here…

She walks past him. He hears a door swing open. He cracks one eye open, and watches the girls' restroom door close behind her.

_Oh._ Zexion relaxes. Now he feels like an idiot.

"Hiding from sis, huh?"

Zexion jumps and barely muffles a very girly, very non-Zexion-like scream.

Laughter issues from behind him.

Zexion turns. Before him stands a twiggy boy, a base drum slung over his chest. By the looks of him, it shouldn't be physically possible for his body to support the massive drum. (Not that Zexion can talk. After all, random-stranger-A still has an inch or two on him.) He's wearing a white tee-shirt and a pair of jean shorts, very casual. His hair is a monstrosity: like a mohawk and a mullet got into a drunken fist fight or something…

The boy spoke once more, and Zexion was drawn from his observations.

"I don't blame ya. She is pretty scary. But she's okay, once you get to know her… kind of."

Zexion quirked an eyebrow and nodded.

"Oh right! I forgot! I'm Demyx!" He shoves the mallet into his pocket and holds out his right hand. "So I guess you're that Sexion kid, right? The one that's been MIA all week?"

Zexion's eyes narrow. And just as he is about to correct Demyx, something clicks in his mind.

"Sis? Wait. That _thing_ is your sister?"

Another laugh. Despite himself, Zexion admits that it's not a completely abominable sound.

"Lar? Yeah, she is. She's so gonna piss herself when she find out that you've been skippin' practice on purpose... Hey! Here she comes now!" Demyx exclaims and begins to wave, much to Zexion's horror.

"Hey fag, who're you talking to? Didn't I say no breaks?" Larxene grabs Zexion's shoulder and whirls him around, glaring at him.

Zexion's eyes widen and he freezes. Suddenly all those rumors seem a lot more believable, and he wishes he knew kung fu or karate or tai chi… well, maybe not tai chi, but the other two.

"Well, I think you look like more of a fag than Dem over here. Congratulations," She says. "Now, what the hell are you doing interrupting my squad?"

Zexion opens his mouth to point out that he's not really interrupting the entire squad, seeing as Demyx is the only talking to him, but quickly shuts it again. After all, he likes his organs as they are: in one piece. Luckily enough, Demyx (who, Zexion muses, isn't as much of an idiot as originally thought) steps in.

"He's new in town, like us. He was just watching."

"And does he have a name?"

"Uh…" Demyx falters. There's an awkward silence, in which Zexion averts his gaze and prepares to be disemboweled.

"Well?"

"Adolph!" Demyx cries suddenly. He smiles brightly, as though he's just done something brilliant. "Yeah, Adolph. He's from Switzerland… or Germany… the one that started the war."

Mentally, Zexion kicks himself. Erase that earlier thought- Demyx is much more of an idiot that he had originally estimated.

Larxene places her hand on her hips and arches an eyebrow. "…Right." She sighs and gives Zexion a despairing look.

"Well, get him an extra snare from the band room. We're down a player. Since he's so interested he can fill in."

Demyx nods and disappears into the school.

Larxene gives a wicked smile. "Welcome to the drum line, _Adolph_. You can thank 'Sexion' for this."

**End: Week One**

* * *


End file.
